The Saboteur's Apprentice
by Me
Summary: Hogan gets help from a very unexpected source. Mild battle scene near end, not gory


BTW, I debated about the rating, and chose PH-13, as the battle scene isn't too bad. If you think I should change it to R let me know. Indeed, sadly this is almost better than some of the stuff they call PG nowadays, so I figure this is a good compromise. The Saboteur's Apprentice 

Sergeant James Kinchloe looked up from the radio in a tunnel below Stalag 13. Robert Hogan, the commanding POW in that prison camp, nodded. He asked Kinch to call Newkirk, Baker, and Carter down from their barracks. When the men converged with the leader in the tunnel, Hogan informed them "we may need to get a couple agents free from the Gestapo, they're in Dusseldorf." 

"That sounds almost routine," Baker responded, after which the sergeant asked "what's up?" 

Hogan explained that "London needs us to reach a Tweedledee and Tweedledum, they need to get out through us before the Gestapo pick them up, they're afraid some of our contacts could be compromised. Baker, you, Carter, and Newkirk go out." Hogan smiled. He knew Carter sometimes struggled on such things as setting timers on bombs, but he was generally reliable, and on missions such as this, where he was to play a forceful Nazi officer, he was outstanding. The head POW chalked it up to a lack of concentration; the American sergeant simply knew he had to work much harder when doing complex tasks. Just in case, of course, Newkirk was along to assist him. 

The prisoners snuck into the motor pool and grabbed one of the cars. Their only difficulty leaving camp occurred when the main gate questioned why they had never been recorded as having entered camp. After some explosive threats to send the guard to the Eastern Front, they were allowed to leave. 

Newkirk, Carter, and Baker scouted a secluded spot in the woods where the meeting was to take place. The black sergeant felt happy to be going on any kind of a mission, even one involving himself pretending to be a captured prisoner. While he operated the radio well, he rarely left the camp with any of Hogan's men. Of course, he knew if captured, he would simply be considered an escaped prisoner, and sent back to Stalag 13. Having him in the cooler was better than losing Kinch to the cooler, since Kinch was more efficient with telephone connections and other items. Still, at times like this even being expendable was an asset. 

"They might be at Gestapo headquarters," Carter mentioned. 

Newkirk envisioned the plan they were to use to free the agents. Kinch had already telephoned the Gestapo in Dusseldorf and pretended to be from Hammelburg, which was Major Hochstetter's territory. "It's a couple blokes named Tweedledee and Tweedledum," he commented. "I don't know what's getting more bloody bizarre as we march toward Paris, the number of prisoners swarming into camp or the agent's names whom we're helping." 

"I just hope we run into a Spanish woman named Barbara." When asked why, Carter explained. "Then, her code name could be The Barbara of Seville.'" The others groaned. 

"If Bonacelli heard you say that, he'd have you shot," came the Englishman, referring to an operative who was Italian and, he presumed, was thus an opera fan. 

The car rolled up to Gestapo Headquarters in Dusseldorf, and Baker began to growl. Newkirk and Carter walked up to the sentry and demanded entrance. Once inside, they spoke to the commanding officer, Ernst Krieg. Carter asked in a German voice "are you holding two agents here," giving their descriptions - code names would not be given unless needed. 

"Yes, Tweedledee and Tweedledum," reported the officer. Gruffly, he asked "What Is your business, and who is this man?!" 

Newkirk explained that "We have had to drag him along with us toward Hammelburg, where a Major Hochstetter awaits. We were told to take those two with us as well." 

"I received no such orders," the captain stated bluntly. "Only some nonsense phone call." 

Carter shot his own face into that of Krieg's. "You would deny the major the right to question men who could save the reich from total collapse? Are you that much of a traitor?! Would you prefer a trial first, or shall we have you shot right now?!" 

Krieg began quaking in his boots. "I swear, I did not mean..." 

"You will release them to us now, or else!" came Newkirk's bellowing call. Krieg nervously reached for the telephone, but had no time to pick up the receiver. Abruptly, three Germans dressed entirely in black, with hoods over their faces, stormed the room waving machine guns. They ordered everyone up against the wall. All complied, including the Heroes. Two of the newcomers guarded the exit and the hall leading to the cells, while the third held a gun on the four men while sifting through papers. 

"It is an Underground attack," exclaimed Krieg. No foolin', Newkirk nearly blurted in English. The real Gestapo figure grew amazed at the courage of these figures. If only they were on our side, he pondered. 

"Bring the two agents you have to us," the sifter, known as Bach, demanded. "Bach" pointed at Carter. "You! Get them, now!" 

Carter wasn't sure what to do. If he pretended to be a real SS agent, he could get shot by this small group of bandits. On the other hand, he knew he couldn't reveal he was an American by speaking perfect English, though he was extremely close to telling them off at the moment. The American obeyed, and Bach hissed that "you follow orders so well. How would you feel if I said my orders were to shoot you?" 

"I would not like that," Carter admitted, a small lump in his throat. He'd felt fear and dread before when he'd pretended to be in the German Army for several days, but it was nothing like this. He walked slowly down the hall, explaining that his orders were from Hochstetter, as had been part of their original plan - why not pin this on the Major, he pondered. The agents were let out, and Carter walked back with them to the atrium. 

The one guarding the hall pulled a heavy crowbar out from a hidden compartment in his uniform, and raised it above his head. Carter noticed it just in the nick of time, and ducked. This time, he couldn't help himself, blurting out in English "hey, watch where you're swinging that thing!" 

The ones in black appeared taken aback for a second. Bach, who appeared to be the one in charge, raised his eyebrows. The one at the door, still mute, glanced Carter's way for a second before resuming his watch. He noted that the men they'd knocked out outside were still limp. The man with the unmasked crowbar, known as Beethoven, whispered "Speakenzie English?" The German was flawless, telling Carter all of these characters likely were German citizens. 

Newkirk recognized their cover had been blown. He decided to suggest knocking out Krieg and all leaving together as Bach continued to grab papers. "Look, mates, we're on the same side," he remarked to blank stares. Maybe they don't know any English, he considered, though Beethoven seemed to comprehend a little. 

"It is a trick," shouted Beethoven. 

Baker intervened by establishing that "the Germans are fighting for the idea of a master race. I'm with these two," he noted in German, pointing to Newkirk and Carter, "and I certainly don't fit the profile of a master race, do I?" 

Bach sighed. He'd picked up a large number of papers and stuffed them into a small satchel. "What are you doing here, then," he inquired angrily. 

Newkirk reverted to German as well, explaining that "we can't tell you that anymore than you can tell us who you are, I am sure you know that." Krieg began to wonder what was happening. He said nothing, however. 

"All right, let us go," remarked Bach as several guards came running in from the hallway with machine guns. The group started running, and the Heroes shot at Krieg's and the guards' legs. "Get to the van," Bach hollered as Baker and Carter ran past them to their own car. 

"Where's their's," Baker quickly wondered. With Carter seeing none, the black fellow ordered Carter into the drivers' seat. As Newkirk and Bach ran out with the agents, Newkirk shooting behind them as they did, Baker motioned them all into their car. Newkirk quickly got into the front seat with the other six in the back, and the car sped away, machine gun fire chasing after it. 

"What in bloody blazes was that all about," Newkirk shouted as the car sped off. He further muttered "and how are we goin' to explain the bullet holes if the car's got any?" 

"Hey, where was you guys headed," inquired Carter. 

Beethoven asked "first of all, who are you? 

"I asked you first," Carter insisted. 

Baker, relieved to be out of that mess, suggested that the trio be blindfolded. "Just in case they're Gestapo." 

Sounding hurt and offended, the mute one, named Brahms, spoke for the first time. "How can you think we are Gestapo?!" The voice sounded younger than they expected. The fellow, still in his mask, looked short, but the POWs realized Major Hochstetter did, too. 

"Same way you thought we were," Newkirk declared. 

Tweedledee tried to reassure the trio. "You can trust these guys, if they freed us, they're just looking out for themselves the same way you did." 

"Yeah," Baker hollered, "but then you nearly got us and yourselves killed!" 

Bach's eyes beamed as he looked through the papers. "We got what we came for." 

"What was that," Newkirk wondered. 

"Can't tell you," Bach explained with an air of haughtiness, "it's a secret." 

Baker spoke, selecting himself as their leader to comfort these apparent Underground workers. "Our hideout's secret, too, pull your scarves over your eyes." They reluctantly did so. 

As the car pulled up to the fence, Baker got out and began talking to Schultz, as the others climbed into the tunnel underneath the doghouse. Baker took time to inspect the car, and finding no bullet holes, he chose to use the first excuse they'd concocted, and send the other men down into the tunnel. Newkirk and Carter eased the three into the tunnel, with the two experienced agents assisting to ensure they didn't fall. "Hi, Schultz," Baker commented. 

"Hello, Baker...what are you doing outside the gate," he wondered with a hint of indignation. 

"Just going for a stroll, Schultz," Baker explained. "Plus, Klink ordered me five minutes ago to pull the car back in, one of the other guards had taken it for a test drive, to see what the knocking was in the engine." 

"Why doesn't he ever tell me these things," the obese guard complained. Baker thought about stating that the kommandant might have, but Schultz just didn't pay attention. That might have been the truth other times, he thought, but the POW decided against it. He simply pulled the car back into the motor pool building. 

Hogan raised his eyebrows as he saw Newkirk and Carter bringing five men with them, three of whom wore blindfolds. Had they sported none, he could understand them being other agents, However, he couldn't comprehend why the people would be blindfolded. "What's going on here," the head POW inquired. 

"That's a good question," responded Baker as he and the others removed the blindfolds of the men in black. As they gazed in awe at their surrounding, Hogan instructed Baker to inform London that the prisoners had been rescued. 

The colonel eyed the three unexpected guests with intrigue and a small amount of pity, for they seemed youthful to him. Then again, he told himself, I might well be seeing things. "This is awesome," exclaimed Beethoven. 

"Such an incredible complex...but no windows," noted Bach with great admiration. "Are we underground," he wanted to know. 

Hogan shook his head. "Can't tell you that. We might be above ground, easier to hide from the Gestapo. I have a few questions for you, first of all..." 

"Look at their uniforms," exclaimed Brahms. 

"Aren't you glad I said not to shoot," came the voice of Beethoven with great annoyance at his older comrade. Newkirk and Carter tried to determine who was the leader. 

"Yeah, yeah," came Bach, who plopped envelopes on a nearby table. To Hogan, he said "you are obviously an Allied prisoner, you have a different style of jacket than our fliers wear." 

"I might be Allied, maybe not a prisoner," Hogan admitted, not wishing to give away any part of their operation. "Why did you come with my men?" 

Beethoven spoke. "They made us come, they were dressed as SS men when we broke into Gestapo headquarters." 

"Yeah, and bloody well near got us all killed," shot Newkirk. 

"Who in their right mind runs around in those...abominations," screamed Bach. 

Hogan held up a hand. "All right, look, can I get a detailed description of what happened?" LeBeau arrived to measure the agents for clothes to assist in their escape. 

The two newcomers who had spoken offered little, and Newkirk and Carter seemed at a loss to totally explain. Finally, Carter stated "we found the prisoners we went to rescue, and we were about to maybe get them turned over to us, when these three came running in and ordered us against the wall." 

"Right," nodded the Englishman, "and then one of em tells Carter to go get the prisoners we was supposed to get." 

Slightly embarrassed, Carter explained that "I almost got knocked out, when I told this guy to watch what he was doing in English." 

Suddenly apprehensive, Hogan asked "did they figure out who you were?" 

Newkirk shook his head. "Things were goin' so ruddy fast, I don't think they bothered to think about it." 

Still, mused Hogan, that could spell problems for Baker if they did. He chose to ask the Underground for help; perhaps, he figured, they could devise something to divert the Gestapo's attention. To his men, Hogan asked "and then what?" 

"Well, some men came shooting from down the hall," the Englishman explained, "so we took off in the car. Their van was down the road a couple blocks, so we didn't want to risk them bein' caught." 

Hogan thought he was beginning to comprehend the picture. This, clearly, was a rogue Underground force, perhaps much more inexperienced than he realized. "How long have you been at this Underground business?" 

"This was our first big mission," declared Bach. "We've done little things - slashing tires of Gestapo, for instance." He pointed to the packets of information. "That contains information on agents, plus about what the Nazis have been doing to those like my brother, whose only crime has been their religion." He finally cried "we must make those demons pay!" 

Beethoven explained. "His brother is in hiding, and has had to flee a couple different places after the Nazis nearly discovered him. I have tried to soothe his anger, but finally we decided to attack as long as I called the shots." Solemnly, he remarked that "it is a good thing I did, or your men might not have made it." The notion made him a little nervous, but he ascertained that as long as they were cautious, senseless deaths wouldn't occur. 

"You're darn right," Hogan exclaimed. "Underground work isn't all shooting and fighting! It involves thinking, and strategy. Besides, you look too young to be in the military. How old are you, anyway?" 

"I am fifteen," proclaimed Beethoven, "and he is seventeen! But we are not too young; for your information, one of my friends, a month younger than me, was drafted last week!" 

"Well, he shouldn't have been!" Hogan glared as he said that, upset that the Germans would even consider taking someone so young. The third member of the gang seemed oddly mute. 

The fifteen-year-old stepped forward. "We should not even be fighting this war, but for Hitler and his madmen we would all be safe. However, the fact remains that it is happening." Beethoven sighed. "No matter what happened, I could not let myself get forced to go fight for a madman for whom I have no respect, after what he has done to our nation." 

The prisoners silently cheered the resounding renunciation of the Nazi cause, but could find little positive about a fifteen-year-old fighting for anything. LeBeau remarked that "when I was fifteen, all I could think about was girls." 

"That's still all you think about," the Englishman declared. 

"Oh, yeah, well at least I have the excuse I'm a Frenchman. Who's the one who asks for the phone number of every woman we find in town." 

Hogan wondered if he should insist that LeBeau not give away any more information, but decided to simply hold up his hands. "All right, with the war on I know that's on all of our minds," the colonel admitted in an effort to get the subject dropped. "However, you don't just start up an Underground operation all of a sudden, even when you're older. And you're..." He grumbled a little, turning to the silent one. "And, how old are you?" 

Embarrassed, Brahms meekly responded with "twelve, sir." Newkirk's mouth flung open. Hogan instantly told LeBeau to drop the measuring tape. "Get your old lady outfit on, and go out right now, you're taking this boy back to his parents..." 

"He already left a note," the eldest boy explained, "stating that he ran away to join the Army." 

Hogan called LeBeau back. Testily, he instructed him "make that a Wehrmacht uniform, tell his parents you're not taking kids that young." He turned to the teens. "And that's the truth, no matter how desperate, no army is going to take a twelve-year-old. Did all of you leave notes like that?!" 

Bach explained that "I have no family, they were deported three years ago, and we do not know what has happened. I was in hiding, too. The SS almost found me, so I decided to start my own Underground unit." 

Beethoven turned to his friend, still in awe at his surroundings. Having noticed some uniforms and other items, he determined that this might just be the best Underground unit in the country. It certainly boasted the most supplies. Suddenly, his interests included something new. "You know, they seem to have a very large and well-run operation," came the compliment. 

"Well, thank you. We try to make sure..." 

"Carter," scolded the head POW. 

Beethoven admitted that they'd made a number of mistakes. "It is true, we do not have the experience. Your operation is very well-run. Let us join you." 

This is getting really weird, thought Hogan as he gave an emphatic "no!" 

"And why not," Beethoven wondered adamantly. "Look, I can see where our friend might be a little young. You know my friend's reason, I came because I remember peace, and love, and family, and Hitler has taken that from us. Him, he just wanted to come along for the excitement, so we gave him a job with very little to do. However, we have succeeded in a number of small plans, and our bigger scheme could have worked with a few modifications. What we need is experience." 

"Well, you can't get it here," shot Hogan. 

"Give me one good reason," came the expectant reply, and suddenly Hogan knew he was in a quandary. 

Up until this point, their guests hadn't even known for sure they were under the ground, much less where. However, to explain why they couldn't work with them, he would need to reveal their operation, or at least some semblance of it. And yet, if he simply said "no," he knew that would provide no answer for these determined youth, and they would simply go on acting out their schemes with or without them. However, some paternal instinct taught him to refuse. "Look, Underground work is way too dangerous. We'll get your friend to England, along with his brother and the agents," came the colonel, "but you and your friend are both going home." 

Bach shook his head. "If I am sent to England, I will simply stow away with Allied troops and come back." He asserted that "I plan to fight the Nazis and destroy their war machinery from within. I will grudgingly admit I could use your help. However, I will do it, with or without you." 

Beethoven concurred, saying that he would act similarly no matter where he was sent. "So, you see, you have two options. Let us fight with you, or let us run a smaller operation that might not accomplish anything, and could do more harm than good," finished the lad, grinning. He knew he had Hogan right where he wanted him. 

Hogan grumbled a little. All I wanted to run away and join was the circus when I was little, he thought to himself. Folding his arms, he realized he had little choice. These kids, one of whom was already without a home, needed protection, both from their own war machinery and from the horrors of the Gestapo if they were caught. Slowly turning to Brahms, he gave a very short lecture and stern warning and received a promise not to speak anything of these events, and LeBeau blindfolded him and left to take him home. To the two remaining kids, he asked "are you willing to pretend to be soldiers?" Beethoven agreed quickly, but Bach hedged. Sensing hesitation, Hogan uttered "I don't mean Nazi. I mean Allied." 

"What," came the shocked older boy. 

"So, that is an Allied jacket," the younger stated, to which Hogan nodded. 

"You'll have to both promise to spend the rest of the war here." They agreed. "Away from your family, from your mother and father, all your brothers and sisters if your have any. It could be a year," he told the younger boy, and he nodded his approval. "I need a verbal answer for this, Army regulations." 

"Well..." He sighed, but relented. After a moment, a firm "yes" was heard. "I really had thought about having to spend my whole time away to spare them, I guess I just wondered about it for a minute." 

Hogan submitted one last important query. "Can you follow orders? Because we are quasi-military." Will they understand what "quasi" means, he wondered. 

Bach quickly agreed. The younger one hesitated, at first saying "I never wanted to be a soldier..." 

"It's not really like the Army, mate," Newkirk remarked. 

Carter responded by saying that "we're a close family, the Colonel..." he hesitated, and Hogan grimly okayed the revealing of whatever Carter wished to say. They knew he was military now. "The Colonel is really as much of a friend as anything. He wouldn't even have to bunk with us or do a lot of chores like us enlisted men, for instance, but he does because it helps us feel closer." Hogan beamed at the obvious admiration in Carter's voice. 

"In that case, I accept," the youngster stated. 

Now, came the tricky part. He still hadn't let them in on anything concerning their setup. He knew they could be Gestapo agents, but then why would they not arrest Carter when he spoke English? Also, even if it was a power play and they'd simply gone after the agents that others had captured, they'd known for a while they were in a secret hideaway of some sort. They'd had their weapons at their sides when their blindfolds were taken off, a tactical error by Newkirk, Carter, and Baker, and yet they hadn't arrested Hogan and his men. Plus, they'd brought a top-secret Gestapo folder with them. Like it or not, they were almost certainly working for the Underground. 

Hogan flipped through the folder. It contained information on the arrest and, in some cases, shooting on sight of Jews who had not complied with the order to relocate. The words made him tremble as he read of various people suspected of treason and crimes "against the master race." Did he dare look further? No, he decided, I can't take it, not right now when I'm worrying about a couple kids who might be mixed up in all of this. They got some good files, though, they might have prevented a few people from being discovered, at least. He glumly put it down on a table in the tunnel and sighed. Yes, he thought, that clinches it. They would not have brought this to us if they were Gestapo; there is no way they'd chance this getting out to the masses of deluded citizenry. And, this might be the tip of the iceberg, he recognized. 

"Okay," came the head POW, "I'll give it to you straight. You each have to get American ID tags, we're going to make like you're Allied prisoners of war." 

The eldest boy snickered a little. He'd thought his friend's idea of conking agents on the head was odd, but this was downright bizarre. "That is a...very interesting way of starting out." 

"Where are we," came Beethoven's curious query. 

Hogan ignored the inquiry. "Newkirk, fit them and give them the outfits of a couple of our fliers for tonight, then have the tailors make them tomorrow." He held up a hand as the eldest boy asked if they actually flew bombing runs. "They'll be Arnold Brown," he said, pointing at Beethoven, "and Sam Smith. Both buck privates, 18, shot down in their first flying mission." The newcomers gawked as Newkirk took down the information and Carter led them to a camera where he took their pictures for ID tags. 

"What an amazing setup," gasped Beethoven. 

"Thanks, Brown," Hogan remarked. Okay, the lad nodded, smiling, I've got it. I respond whenever you call me that or Arnold. 

The new Private Smith stammered with great astonishment "how do we...where are we, exactly?!" 

"I'll show you." Hogan led them to the main tunnel. "Tomorrow, we'll have you snuck in after roll call, and you'll meet the kommandant with your phony name tags, give your phony names, and that's all. No fancy stuff. Got that?" 

"Yes Sir," came the excited Smith. "When is our first mission?" 

Having teenagers amongst their crew still troubled the head POW. Hogan hoped to ease them into things and have them work at little projects for a few months, allowing them to bide their time, perhaps until they were liberated. He hedged and said "we'll see, first you need to follow the right steps." 

Newkirk added that "you do have a leg up in that you speak flawless German." 

"We might need to keep you away so the guards don't get suspicious, you don't speak much English. So, that'll be the main thing, teaching you English." Maybe I can use that as an excuse to delay their beginning till the war ends, Hogan pondered as he led them up the tunnel. "We'll make sure you bunk here," he added, "this is the main starting point." 

The two gawked at their surroundings. Suddenly, they'd gone from a large structure they'd thought might be an entire military complex from its enormity to a small barracks. They quickly realized they'd been in an enormous tunnel the whole time. "Ach du liber," Smith exclaimed. Hogan quickly explained to the others in the barracks that these were German Underground agents posing as Allied prisoners for a special mission. Later, he would explain things in more detail. Kinch went down the tunnel to work on the name tags as the lads dressed in two American fliers uniforms, with the privates they replaced donning the black outfits. The clothing would be changed back once the new uniforms were created. 

"I have never imagined such a thing in my life," spoke the new Brown, even more amazed than before. Having no idea where in Germany he was, he simply focused his mind on the enormity of such an operation. How did they do it, he wondered, not bothering to consider whether the kommandant knew what was going on. He'd barely had time to think of what he himself would do with such an opportunity, there was so much inside that vast tunnel system, so many things which could be done to hurt the Nazis. 

As had often happened lately, nobody watched the window. They knew Kommandant Klink would be getting ready for bed; there was no light on in his office at this hour of the evening. They also knew their main guard, Hans Schultz, sergeant of the guard, would be watching them. Schultz ignored them so totally as the summer of 1944 wore on that they often forgot about watching, especially when no agents were in the room. And, he could be tricked into thinking these were simply a couple new prisoners, Hogan deduced. After all, the camp had gotten a fair number of them lately. 

Hence, nobody thought to watch as the obese guard strode in for a friendly chat that late summer evening. They hadn't told the boys, either, for they knew these newcomers could always assume the Germans knew what they were doing. The prisoners were not surprised when Schultz opened the door, and the newcomers were only a touch startled. However, the attitude of the room swiftly changed, an aura of astonishment larger than they imagined sweeping over Allies and Germans, as Schultz's eyes bulged halfway across the English Channel, and the new Arnold Brown glanced up, then gazed into the man's eyes and uttered one lone, surprised syllable. 

"Dad!" 

Chapter Two 

Hogan mouthed the word "what" as several mouths stood agape, most notably that of Schultz, who looked ready to swallow a chicken whole. The stunned silence was interrupted by a blabbering "wh...wh..what...what..." 

The startled youth still hadn't totally comprehended the situation. Groping for something to say, he finally uttered "What a surprise." 

His lips trembling, Schultz turned to Hogan. With a hint of a whimper, he asked "What is he doing here?" Hogan was speechless. Combining the wrathful insistence of Hochstetter with the timid, almost under-his-breath voice Schultz normally gave in such bizarre circumstances, the guard repeated "what is he doing here?!?" Finally, the guard exclaimed lowly: "Never mind, just leave him out of your affairs." 

As the prisoners overcame their bafflement, Schultz's son, a.k.a. Private Brown, a.k.a. Beethoven explained. "They did not bring me here, Father, I wanted to join them. I am in the Underground." 

Becoming more determined, but with a hint of apprehension in his voice, Schultz exclaimed "no, you are not!" The new Smith rolled his eyes and walked over to a cot, sitting beside Carter. 

"Yes he is, Schultz," came the resigned colonel, his head bowed and arms folded. He wished he could tell the guard something different. 

"Oh, why do I ever come in here," the guard seemed to inquire of the ceiling, "where there is always monkey business going on?" To his son, he suddenly got the gumption to put his foot down. "Young man, you know we have always taught you to stay out of this war! You go right home, do you hear me?!" 

"I will not stop fighting this evil tyranny," spoke the lad. 

"Yes you will!" Hans relaxed his angry glare, and simply lectured him that "you are way too young to fight, and besides, I told you before you do not need to get involved at all. Now you go home, or you will be grounded till the end of the war!" 

"I am not too young, Heinz was drafted a few days ago." That must be the friend he spoke of, the prisoners considered. 

"Oh, and if Hitler told you you were old enough to jump off a bridge and bounce back up, would you do it?" 

Carter laughed out loud. "Hey, I thought only American parents used that line," the American called out to him. 

"That maniac would tell people that, and many would do it," came the disgusted youth next to Carter. Newkirk grinned. "Smith" already seemed to be adjusting well to his role as a prisoner. 

"No," stated the son, "because Hitler has done nothing but evil for our nation. I want to keep others from jumping off if he says to!" 

Kinch came up from the tunnel, having finished with the documents, as the father spoke adamantly. "You do not need to, you just let..." was interrupted by Schultz's recognition that the bunk to his left had flown up, with Kinch slowly rising. The sentry gawked at Kinch and repeated "Let...let...let...", having seemingly turned to stone. The black sergeant gave Schultz a wry grin as he stepped out and the bunk went back into its normal position. "Mmmmm, I see nothing," came the grimacing man as he squished his eyes shut. He opened them, noticed the bunk was back to normal, and exhaled as he once again pointed at his son and said "now, where was I?" 

Hogan stepped forward. "You were about to tell him to let us handle it. I tried when we were down there." 

Schultz again shook his finger, looking as if he were trying to shake a bug loose. "Yes, now let them handle...When you were down where," he shot angrily at Hogan. 

"I thought you wanted to know nothing, Schultz," Kinch remarked. 

"That is at other times. But, when it comes to my son, I want to know ev-rything!" 

Hogan decided to see how far he could go before Schultz deliberately closed his ears; he knew it was usually a very short amount of time. The matter-of-fact commander began by stating that "a few of my men were out trying to spring a couple of Underground agents from Gestapo headquarters." He could tell Schultz struggled to avoid leaving and hearing nothing further. "Your son and his friends burst in after knocking out a few agents and demanded their release to them. The group pointed guns at the Gestapo, but didn't fire." 

"Is this true?" The boy nodded as the steaming father glared straight through him, making a fist. "You are going to be grounded till the next war now, young man! And, you'd better never shoot someone, or I'll...I'll...Oh, believe me, I will!!" The sentry's harsh rebuke was meant to scare the lad, and worked with the younger children, just as they worked when this child was younger. Now, however, the boy who'd become used to thinking about evading Gestapo torturers couldn't be fazed by the thinly veiled threat, which Schultz had thankfully never had to carry out, because he wasn't sure what he'd do if they challenged it. The children commonly thought he meant a spanking or, for the older ones, a whipping, but were never willing to test the irate promise. 

The older boy chose to help his friend. "I wanted to go in shooting, but he insisted that our guns not even be loaded." 

Hogan exploded at that comment. "You what?! What kind of a hare-brained operation..." 

"Colonel Hogan, do not encourage my son to want to shoot anyone," came the combination of mandate and supplication that only Schultz could muster. 

The son grinned happily. "Father, do not worry, I have never thought of killing someone else." Schultz seemed to say a prayer of thanks. "However, this thing I joined, it is important for two reasons. First, I want to fight the Nazis, whom you taught me were very evil, and dangerously persuasive. Also, I could be drafted at any time." 

Smiling a little, Schultz submitted that "if that happens, Colonel Hogan will just get you..." He suddenly slammed his lips shut, mumbling "I know nothing!" 

"Don't worry, Schultzie, the colonel already told them he could get them to England," came the Brutish accent. 

"He said he'd just come back," Hogan commented. "Now, he is where he can't get hurt." 

Schultz sighed, trying to determine what to do. To buy some time, he asked "does your mother know where you are?" 

The lad explained that "I left a coded note saying I was joining the Underground, and which points her to a message she can show others stating I've joined the army. In fact, one of the things we did was sneak a file into a local veterans' group listing myself as a private in the German Army." 

The guard smacked his lips and sighed resignedly. He'd privately dreaded his son's fifteenth birthday, knowing that the Germans might draft him. He'd prayed long and hard while marching his post that his children not have to fight for Germany, no matter what. Perhaps this was a case of having to be careful what he asked for, because he might just get it. Maybe, though, this would work. As long as Hogan didn't involve him in anything. He'd be able to keep an eye on the youth, who was a little wild, and ensure that he didn't try to become a soldier after all. Schultz asked Hogan to step into his office with him. "Colonel Hogan," the man spoke solemnly once inside, "can you promise my son will not get involved in your monkey business?" 

I wish I could, Hogan told himself. "Schultz...if he insists..." 

"Colonel Hogan, you know I have very rarely treated you like a soldier," the fat guard pleaded. "I am not asking you as a soldier, but as a father, do not let Oskar get involved." It was the first Hogan had heard the lad's real name. He wondered what the other youth's name was. 

Hogan disliked making such promises; even if he didn't go on any missions, he knew Schultz's son provided the perfect German voice. Yes, his friend could be used for that, but everyone in their camp got involved in some way, even if it was just knitting uniforms. They might not all know the nature of their missions; most of them knew nothing more than that there were no escapes because of covert activity which went on, and that that activity was contingent on the dimwitted Klink keeping his record of no escapes intact. However, being a prisoner in Stalag 13 meant fighting the Nazis. 

Still, Hogan perceived a little bit of an out for the boy. As he explained to the sergeant, "your son Oskar thinks Underground work is just all fun and nobody will get hurt; take the guns, we'd never go out without loaded guns..." 

"Please, Colonel Hogan, that is part of what I do not want to know!" 

A little more resolute, he answered "Fine, but you have to admit, he doesn't think there'll be any carnage. He doesn't realize war is hell." His friend might, Hogan pondered, but he doesn't. And, just being in hiding is different from actively going out and fighting. His friend still hadn't seen wounded prisoners, or smelled the awful scent of death, or seen the carnage of a battlefield. He could only imagine the trauma. So could Oskar Schultz, but Hogan recognized that the two likely came from different backgrounds. More sheltered by parents who disdained the military, war would be a much greater shock for him than he realized. "If he gets into something - not that he will - he might see people die, even non-soldiers. That could turn him off of even Underground work, and you'll have your son back." 

Schultz deliberated hard, and finally relented. Yes, he decided sadly, his son did need a wake-up call. Perhaps they'd sheltered their kids too much from the covertness of his work with his employees before emigration bans went into effect, giving the poorer ones who wished it money to flee, or to at least send their children to relatives in England or America. He didn't know what was happening with the Jews, except that the hatred preached went totally against what they themselves believed. His son hadn't seen the full monstrosity of war, nor the evils of his own nation. 

With some insistence, the father said "take good care of him, do not let anything happen," and walked out of the office, with Hogan following. "Son, I have decided to let you work with Hogan." The boy jumped for joy, elated to be working with such a great unit. "You are to listen to Colonel Hogan just as you would to me, and I do not want you leaving here." He doesn't know of the "no escape" rule, the lads surmised, realizing for the first time that perhaps nobody in the camp knew about this operation. "Now, I will call your mother and tell her. Colonel Hogan," he said, turning and laughing. Resuming his normally jovial mood, he said "Colonel Hogan, you are not going to believe what I was going to say." 

"Try me," came the remark at the end of a very peculiar day. 

The fat guard explained that "I was going to ask if you had a phone in here." 

As Schultz's belly bounced with delight, and the youths laughed as well, Kinch indicated the bunk out of which he'd stepped. "Sure, just go down there, make a left at the radio..." The sentry quickly held up his hands. 

"Please, Sergeant Kinchloe," came the man, again pleading, "that is your private space. I want to see noth-ing!" The group laughed as the fellow left, and Hogan went down to call Mrs. Schultz. 

The next morning, Hogan waltzed into Kommandant Klink's office, instructing the teens to wait outside in the outer office. "Kommandant, request permission to interrogate the new men." 

Without looking up, Klink said "request deni-" and froze. "What new men," came the insistent query. 

"The prisoners Schultz captured last night. Fraulein Helga," he called out, intentionally irking the German colonel. "Bring the two new men in here." Rapidly, he turned to Klink. "Oh, right, Sir, Schultz probably heard you were too busy and decided not to disturb you." He abruptly turned to the youths, confusing Klink further as he fired off "remember, only name, rank, and serial number" in German. 

Klink held out his hands. "What is going on here?" 

"These men can speak German. Arnold?" 

Pseudo-Brown greeted Klink by spouting "good day, Sir, how are you doing?" in German. 

"See," Hogan remarked, "I think they're spies, request permission to interrogate them." 

Klink strode out from behind his desk in a huff. "Colonel Hogan, I am the kommandant, and I will question any new-." Once again, he halted. Inching closer to Hogan, he said "you...think I'm spying on your men, hmm? Tell me, how many of your men do you think could be spies?" Klink loved the notion that he ran such a tough POW camp, Hogan might think anyone could be spying on them and their escape plots. Of course, the only reason a "no escape" rule was in place was to keep the inept kommandant in charge. 

Hogan pretended to muse that "of over a thousand men, with the new ones coming in, I would venture that fifty could be spies." 

Klink beamed, wishing he had the manpower to accomplish that. "You think so, Hogan?" He never got anything more than name, rank, and serial number out of anyone, anyway, he pondered. He had so much paperwork, anyway, if Hogan took two men off his hands, that would be two fewer men he had to question. "You see all this paperwork? When General von Scheieder replaced me the week the Allies invaded France, he was hardly ever here, kept mumbling something about his wife. I have been days getting all the paperwork done he never did. If Schultz captured them, let him fill these out and give them to me. And, good luck, because I know they won't give you anything helpful." He handed to the colonel a couple forms, and told the men, in German, to give the papers to his secretary. They complied, and Hogan feigned fright. "You were lucky, you caught two. As you say, there could be many more. Dismissed, Hogan," came the colonel as he smiled like a Cheshire Cat. 

Hogan saluted and walked out of the office, taking the forms from Helga and informing the boys that, once in the barracks, he would have them fill out their own forms. "You did good work on the others, I guess." They filled him in on the details of their previous personalities. "Good. A few little additions I've spread to the men - my men - to avoid confusion and make them think you're real. I left them for you to look at; names, home towns, friends; you flew with a James D. Myer of Canton, Ohio, at Lubbock, Texas before he was grounded with pleurisy, which kept him from joining your crew." Hogan had acquired information on numerous men who'd been grounded like that for use in such schemes, though he'd never envisioned a scheme so wild. 

As they walked through the compound, Schultz automatically turned and said "Hello, Oskar.". 

The colonel beamed as Oskar gave a wry grin and explained "I do not know who you mean, I am Private Arnold Brown." The shock over seeing his father in the same camp had worn off, and now the lad simply stated it as a joke. He would try to remain in the barracks most of the time, of course, but he didn't bear a huge resemblance to Schultz, mostly because the lad was more youthful looking, an inch taller but perhaps 100 pounds lighter. 

Still, Hogan pondered, the resemblance was close enough some people might start asking questions. Besides, though he didn't think Schultz mixed his family and what the guard considered just a job, someone might have seen the man's son. So, he sent Oskar back to the barracks and asked Schultz "When do new recruits usually come?" 

"We could use new men at any time," came the father, still puzzled over recent events. "What is it to you?" 

"Well, some might notice the similarity, so I want to eliminate any questions." I also don't want Schultz blowing this, the head POW pondered. Bringing him over to a spot behind the barracks, he said "if you tell me when, we'll let you and Klink induct him as a guard here." 

Defiantly, the obese man glowered. "Colonel Hogan, I do not want my son to be a soldier..." 

"He won't be," the American reassured him. "How often does Klink see the guards here?" Schultz admitted he was the one who handled all the youngest guards. "Then it's simple, you tell him your son's a guard here, he puts in a few appearances in a German uniform, and that's it." 

"Colonel Hogan, you could get him in a lot of trouble..." 

"No we won't, Schultz." Hogan had tried to sound sincere. 

"In that case, you would get me in a lot of trouble!" 

Hogan explained as if to a small child. "Look, if someone even thinks they recognize your son, what will they do? They'll assume he turned traitor and just happened to get captured..." 

"Please, Colonel Hogan!" 

The guard put his hands to his ears as Hogan spoke more. "They think you had something to do with it, if you're lucky they send you to the Russian front." 

"Please, I do not want to go...if I am lucky?!" 

"Of course," he emphasized, "that's if you're lucky. If not..." he trailed off to let the thought sink in. The next minute, Schultz was running to get some forms for Oskar to fill out as a "new recruit." 

Wilhelm Klink inspected Oskar, who lined up with several other new men at a recruiting station the next day. Adequate specimens, Klink thought, though these men were mostly former rejects or quite young. Oskar Schultz fit the latter category. Despite Oskar's urgings that he be allowed to play along with all of Hogan's hijinks, including acting like a soldier, Schultz insisted that he would pay no attention to the lad as long as he stood up straight and smiled. He called it "playing statue," a favorite game of their childrens' when they were told to remain quiet. 

Not wishing to take a jab at their commander, Klink resisted the urge to state that the son looked like more of a soldier than his father. Instead, he simply remarked that "I am quite impressed with your new recruits, Schultz, especially your son." Klink wished such young people didn't need to fight, but he knew the time would soon come when many were called. Schultz and Hogan - why Hogan? he wondered - had demonstrated that outlook quite clearly the day before, when Schultz remarked that he'd convinced his son to sign up to come here to "avoid any real combat." Recalling that he'd never yearned to be a soldier the way some did, Klink immediately understood the man. Oskar Schultz was likely the same way, and his father was assisting in a way Klink's father had not. 

Oskar Schultz had been quite excited about this opportunity to "try out his acting ability," as Hogan had advertised it. He awaited with great excitement the time when Klink would walk up to him, and he would impersonate a German...wait, he quickly recalled, he was a German. I cannot believe I forgot that; I am getting to be just like my father, conceded the teen, the thought making him shudder inwardly. Oh, well, he deliberated, Hogan did want me to think, act, and move unlike Oskar Schultz and like an Arnold Brown. I guess now, I am. 

Klink considered Oskar for a second, then spoke. "Your father has not told me much about his family, but I see he has a fine young man for a son." 

"Thank you, Herr Colonel, I try," barked Oskar. 

"Call me kommandant," Klink requested. "Your father has told me he wanted you in camp to avoid having you fight, and at your age I find that a wise choice. I may not see you much from now on, so I just wanted to say, I hope you realize what a great father you have, and what a favor he is doing you." 

"Thank you, Herr Kommandant," came the excited reply, as he expected Klink to move on, but instead got treated to the famous Klink pride. 

"You know," the kommandant began, "I never wanted to be a soldier, but it was part of my family tradition. I was a great one, though, once I became one. I flew in training with the Blue Baron, and taught him everything I know," Klink explained, going on for several minutes about his record. 

Finally, during a lull, Oskar interrupted to explain that "I have heard Father say there has never been a successful escape. I would love to be part of maintaining that record!" Did Hogan coach him, his dad wondered, because he butters Klink up just like the colonel would. 

"Excellent," came the overjoyed colonel. "Schultz, I leave these men to you." To all, he commanded that "Sergeant Schultz is one of the key players in that perfect record, and I warn you, he will not let anyone slack off." He will himself, though, lamented Klink. 

After about an hour of marching on guard duty, Oskar slipped into the barracks, shed his uniform and placed several fake features on his face, and became Arnold Brown. Newkirk eyed the lad with a tinge of jealousy - he'd nearly become a guard at Stalag 13 himself once, but had worried greatly that Klink would recognize him. Maybe I could have pulled it off, he considered. No, don't be silly, he told himself, we've got Schultz and Klink, why would we need someone else here? 

"How'd you're first day on the job go," Hogan wondered. 

"Great," came the excited response, alarming Hogan a little. "I am all ready for a mission now. I even pretended to see myself - that is, who I am now," elaborated the teen as he pointed to his Allied outfit, "and joked to several other guards that I could be mistaken for him. They laughed - they thought the way I acted looked nothing like the way Brown acted!" The other prisoners felt a little queasy, too, only because this was Schultz's son, and he would not like the fact that his boy appeared to be a natural Underground agent. Hogan, too, felt a little disgust; much of him still hoped the lad would be turned away from Underground work. What will we do if he becomes not only a regular, but one of my best men, he asked himself, in the league with Carter, Kinch, Newkirk, and LeBeau. Even the second string - Olsen, Baker, and several other men - would be a bad place for him. 

Still, despite such abilities, Hogan felt some warning was needed for this apprentice of sorts. "Look, I don't mind that little bit, but just leave things to us, we've got much more experience." 

Somewhat defiantly, Oskar dared them by telling them "ask my father about the hospital caper' once." 

When Oskar was pressed for details, his friend, known as Kurt, spoke. "He told me about this, it is how I knew he would be good. On April Fool's Day one year, he thought he and Heinz would invent this sick friend to trick his father into making a few special toys for him. It snowballed, and soon the entire school was planning a fundraiser to pay for this child to go to America for surgery. This was with others' help who did not hear that it was a joke, but it was still a case where people were fooled." 

"So it's not just Schultz you can fool," remarked Kinch. "I mean, your dad." Oskar shook his head. While this impressed the Heroes, they also knew that fooling someone was only going to work some of the time. Still, at least they held a little more confidence in the lad. 

Toward the end of June, the Heroes received a message from London. For days, the boys had performed simple tasks, such as assisting in the creation of fake uniforms, while anxiously awaiting their first assignment. At the same time, Hogan hoped that assignment would never come. He couldn't tell whether this was because the lads were so young, or because of Schultz. After all, if something did happen to his son on their watch, they might be back to the old days, early in 1942, when Schultz, too, had to be watched, and they couldn't let him in on little bits and pieces of missions. Theoretically, scare tactics might not work as they did early in the war, and Schultz might report things out of anger over what happened to his son. Admittedly, that wasn't very likely, but even the former could spell trouble for their operation. 

When Hogan read the description, however, he knew they might not be able to avoid using them. Underground action combined with a small paratroop drop was scheduled to divert the attention of troops being shifted toward the European front as a result of the Allied breakthrough into France. It would occur near the city of Dortmund, and part of the operation would include the sabotaging of the canal which connected them to the North Sea. The activity would normally involve only the four usual Heroes, but a large number of Hitler Youth would be taking care of the canal as a public service project, with so many troops at the front. The paratroops would be landing in that region. 

Hogan outlined the mission to Kinch, Carter, Newkirk, and LeBeau. The teens were stationed downstairs in the tunnel, printing phony money with Baker and several others. "Now, men," came the grim colonel, "I'm going to show you my thinking. I want to make sure we all agree on this. I think - I think - we can get by with no major problems here. They know about the Hitler Youth movement, they can fit in in a way none of you can." 

"Oh, I could do it, Colonel," the Frenchman asserted, knowing he was small enough he could pass for a youngster. 

"Maybe, but you'll have other things to do, getting some fake orders to the troops with me, and Carter, of course, will be handling explosives with Newkirk," Hogan explained. 

Carter acted as if their commanding officer had just stated a law of physics. "Well, of course, I mean, that's just my specialty. I like making things go boom." 

"Right," remarked the Englishman, "provided you remember the timer." 

Carter ignored the chiding and continued. "Well, actually, no, I like making them go BOOM!" The others jumped slightly as Carter grinned at the little prank. "I got'cha, didn't I." Newkirk and LeBeau shook their heads. 

Undaunted, the colonel ignored the noise. "Now, they sometimes have military people leading them, I'll go in with them and we'll convince these young people we're supposed to go somewhere else, not the canal." He bit his lip and looked down. 

Kinch instantly picked up the signal, as he often did. The calm, quiet man seemed, to Hogan, the most efficient of any of them. "What's the trouble?" 

"I just wish we could get these kids to see how wicked their leaders are." He stood and moped around the room. "They just follow that fruitcake out of peer pressure, that's all; they don't even think." He leaned against a bunk and turned to the men. "My problem is, if one of these...apprentices starts lecturing them about how immoral their leaders are, I'm likely to hesitate in shushing them so we don't endanger our mission and just let them preach against those monsters, and say how dangerous they are." 

"Speak of the devil," commented Kinch as the lads rose from the bunk, causing Hogan to move away from the bed, as he'd been leaning against it. They saw rather expectant looks on the Heroes' faces. 

"Is it a mission," anxiously inquired Kurt. 

We can't put it off, the head POW decided. Informing them of the mission, he felt surprised that Kurt insisted on helping Carter and Newkirk. The notion struck Hogan as bizarre - he was much better suited for the Hitler Youth portion of the operation, though the lad had shown some skill in explosives. However, Kurt objected strongly. "What good will two of us do? I have practiced extensively with volatile chemicals." 

"So that's what those tiny explosions were," chided Kinch. The lad accepted the good-natured ribbing, laughing with the other men. 

"Ever make a bomb," inquired Hogan. He hadn't. "You need to make one first; start small, just like before, remember?" He slowly relented. "Work with Carter, he's an expert, nobody makes them like him." Carter beamed. 

"And then next time, maybe I can plant them?" Hogan provided a firm commitment to "work him up to that," considering that perhaps he can work this boy along a little faster. He wouldn't feel the dread he sometimes felt thinking of using Oskar. Neither side, to his knowledge, had done anything to hurt Schultz and his family; if anything, the Nazis had by starting the war, so Schultz was willing to ignore more than he might normally. He didn't want to send the guard's thinking back the other way. 

Hogan gave them the time and date, and emphasized that "this will to be a co-ordinated effort. Not a word to anyone else, you two," came the admonition to the youths. "We go tomorrow night, getting out in the early evening so we're back easily by morning. No heroics, we work as a team, got it?" They nodded. 

Hogan smiled. This almost seemed too easy as they reviewed and re-reviewed their plans. The youths impressed him with their know-how; perhaps all they needed was direction. Who knew, maybe it wouldn't turn Oskar against Underground work; how would he explain that? Oh, well, he pondered, that might be a good thing. His other men didn't go on every mission, after all. Oskar could even join Kinch and Baker as radio men. In that case, they would still be aiding the Allied war effort while remaining safe. Perhaps keeping them here would work after all, the colonel began to ponder. 

If I've begun to think this way, though, wondered the head POW, then why do I have an underlying sense of dread about this mission? 

Chapter Three 

The rapid pace at which the youths picked up on the assignment and the plan greatly impressed the Heroes. Hogan explained it this way as they donned SS uniforms. The Hitler Youth would respond to the SS very well. Hogan and the boys would direct the youths' attention away, perhaps toward some sort of impromptu rally. Oskar and especially Kurt were bothered by the notion of pretending to lead people toward such wickedness, but when they learned Carter had impersonated Hitler, they acquiesced to the concept. "You'll just spew hot air anyway, nothing to convince them of anything. I was mortified at first," Hogan soothed them, "when he was doing his Hitler impression, but blind obedience to mortal men is their downfall, and I learned early on that the place you attack most is their Achilles heel." 

As they did this, Carter and Newkirk would lay explosives. They would hurry back as the paratroops were dropping, assisted by LeBeau, who would co-ordinate them and aid in any sabotage they wished to do. Finally, they would all flee as the canal was destroyed, preventing the shipment of arms northward and, hopefully, the passing of the military units to the French theater of action. Troops would be kept busy searching for the paratroopers while they laid low in the tunnel for a few days before being shipped back to England. 

Kurt shook his head in awe. "You are winning the war for your side just with your operations," he exclaimed. 

"Thanks, we try," came the humble-sounding reply from the colonel. 

My dad is helping by simply ignoring them, considered Oskar. Maybe working behind the scenes could help - a little. Still, he expressed the opinion that "there is much that can be done to speed up the process. We can work on great projects." 

Hogan retorted by stating "it's not like you just go do Underground work on summer vacation and then write a report about it for school." 

"Of course not, we have to stay here until the end of the war," Kurt replied matter-of-factly. At least he grasps that much, sighed Hogan. 

As the prisoners and German youth made their way down the tunnel and to the emergency exit, they checked their gear. Everything appeared to be in working order. With Baker watching for signs of trouble, Kinch stood in the tunnel to see them off. "Good luck," he remarked. 

Newkirk wanted to say "thanks, we'll need it." He didn't know which was more bizarre - Kurt's impulsiveness or Oskar's peaceful attempts to wage war. They provided a unique blend of two of Hogan's greatest attributes - his ability to quickly invent ideas and his prowess at psychological warfare, which Newkirk felt resulted from a desire not to do anything more violent than needed. However, they lacked the ability to discern when which was necessary, and this made them...well, perhaps like Colonel Crittenden, an officer who often tried to work with the Heroes, but who ultimately had little success at any covert operations. 

Thanks to the Underground in Hammelburg, a military truck was waiting. They used it to travel to their destination, at which point Carter and Newkirk left to plant the dynamite. LeBeau followed, only he would double back before they were through to assist the paratroopers. 

Hogan, meanwhile, allowed the boys to go over last minute details of the Hitler Youth movement with him. He determined that he'd been correct in his assessment - the youngsters would look like members of the movement, much more realistic members than he would. He also needed to keep them in check, however, meaning he would oversee them. The others aren't as experienced as I am, pondered the colonel, they could join Oskar and Kurt in getting out of control and trying to rile the youths against the fuhrer. Well, except for Kinch, Hogan realized, but he's not a realistic Nazi. 

As the youths spread the false reports that there could be Underground work on the other end of town, and drew the teens away from the area they promised to guard, Hogan found the situation to be rather well under control. At the same time, Carter, Newkirk, and LeBeau planted explosives in various parts of the town, and set the timers. While Carter and Newkirk secured the dynamite, LeBeau traveled to the point where the paratroopers would be dropped, shortly before midnight. The teens would be staying up later than usual, but so would the Hitler Youth, all of whom were around Oskar and Kurt's ages. Hogan glanced at his watched, and - dressed as an SS major - stood to address the throng. 

Guard work is such lonely work, Hans Schultz pondered as he strutted along his assigned route, scanning the compound with mild interest. At least my four youngest are safe, he considered. Or, are they? While I'm safe ignoring things at Stalag 13 - as long as nobody gets caught - Allied planes bomb our city so often, maybe I should use what I think I know Hogan does to get them out of Germany. I don't know how I would explain that, though, deliberated the man as he roamed toward Hogan's barracks. 

This is lonely work, James Kinchloe mused inside the barracks. With Baker manning the radio, Kinch had time to consider, yet again, the chances the Heroes took every day of their lives. Yes, he'd taken risks, but not nearly as many as them. Normally, he simply obeyed orders about when to consider closing down their operation. He weighed the latest mission, and somehow knew his comrades, his family, his only real friends in the world, it seemed at times, would return. However, the normal unease still existed, as it did on any mission. Imagine when I get home, he thought, and tell my mother I know just how she felt all those teenage years. He stood to greet the German guard entering the barracks. 

"Oh, Sergeant Kinchloe," came Schultz's absent-minded comment as he walked in and sat down. 

How do I approach this, he asked himself. "If you're looking for Colonel Hogan," Kinch remarked, "he's...well..." 

"I know, Sergeant Kinchloe, I peeked in and saw you all in those uniforms, including my son." He grumbled. "At first I wanted to report them, but I know it was only me being upset at my son being involved, and that it could get my son and me in a lot of trouble." His next comment stunned the black man. "I came to see you." 

Raising his eyebrows, Kinch remarked: "Me? Why me? You're a lot closer to the others." 

"You do not have to tell me anything about whatever they do, but they are the ones who have to run their errands around me:" The guard sighed. "It is hard to explain, but you see, I know you do not run around as much as they do. And, I think I know why." 

"Enlighten me." If he's close to right, perhaps I'll humor him and agree. It works for Hogan, Kinch deduced. 

"It is simple. You do not fit the ideal of the master race. You cannot wear the uniforms the way those men do." Kinch grinned slightly, eager to hear Schultz's next comment. "And yet, I see you with them, seeming involved in their monkey business in the barracks, working on the kommandant's cars when all sorts of bad things happen to them, and they wind up having more things wrong with them then when they went in to be checked...." 

"Trust me, Schultz, that's the way all mechanics work." 

The somber man allowed a grin to emerge. "That may be true. However, I know you are like a mother hen with them. You are the only one who can understand me right now; my wife presumes our son is totally safe from any bad things that could happen. If I tell her what he is doing, or may be doing, she may never speak to me again." Kinch smiled, harkening back to his childhood. His mother forced his dad, Ivan Kinchloe, to sleep on the couch for a week after Ivan had introduced his son to the sport of boxing. Ah, how splendid to relive those days, and not consider the insanity of wartime. The obese man continued by admitting that "you are just like me in another way, as well." 

This likely won't involve our operation, Kinch decided. "How's that?" 

"I hear some of your own men say nasty things about you, things which would earn my children a mouth full of soap if they said them, because of your race. I know Colonel Hogan tries to make sure these things are never said, but he cannot stop them all, and I know you must hear them." Schultz wondered if he was willing to express his next thought. Yes, he considered for the umpteenth time, it was time someone heard it. 

Before the guard could continue, Kinch explained "I just naturally forgive them. The Bible says we must forgive as our Father forgave us, and once we do, if the one who sins doesn't apologize and repent, we heap burning coals on their foreheads." 

"I have seen you quite often in the prisoners' chapel, I thought you might say that." It is what has led me to be able to forgive Colonel Hogan for this, he pondered, just as long as it doesn't happen again. 

"You're welcome to join us." When Schultz recited the rule against fraternizing with prisoners - which he broke too often as it was - Kinch told him to "tell Klink that's where the escape committee meets." Both men laughed, and Schultz promised to do that. 

The guard referred to his previous comment. "Your experience with racism is similar to mine for being friends with Jews. I refused to fire Jewish employees, and remained friends with Jews, teaching my children not to hate them. I had experience in the First World War, I should have begun the war as a Master Sergeant like I am, not as a corporal. Luckily Klink kept promoting me, perhaps because of Hogan's help when he came here. I have always mistrusted Hitler and the Nazis, especially because of how they hate Jews. If you wish to deport them, you do not pass laws saying they cannot leave, it makes no sense." Kinch agreed. "Anyhow, we never told our kids exactly what we were doing, and maybe that was a mistake, but I used money from my company to pay for some to get out right before the emigration bans went into effect." He paused to think a minute. "I still wish I could do more than just ignoring you guys." 

Kinch put his hand on Schultz's. "Don't blame yourself. One time when we were" he began as Schultz prepared to insist upon hearing nothing. "Sorry, well, one time I was the only one of a group to elude capture by the Gestapo. As I walked back to camp I wanted to cry; I wondered why was I spared? Why couldn't I have been captured and let them come back; maybe sent one of them to climb a tree to find out where we were? I poured my heart out in prayer, and I couldn't bring myself to tell the colonel for a few moments after I came up from the tunnel. I'll always remember him staring down there for what seemed like forever, waiting for them to follow me, and I couldn't speak. He looked at my sad face, and the silence hit the room like a huge bombshell, and I kept wondering why I wasn't taken. 

"Then, it hit me. It's not like they would mind. They're willing to risk their lives every time. Having faith that good will triumph once again, with no casualties. Your son is like that, too. If you had told him, it might have angered him more, made him leave sooner. And, like it or not, at age fifteen he's probably old enough to make that choice. You had to let him have his freedom, it's like the story of the Prodigal Son." Kinch chuckled. "I bet the Prodigal Son's mother refused to talk to her husband and made him sleep on the couch, too." The two laughed. The snickers dying down, Kinch smiled at Schultz. "He came back to his father, though, and your son will, too. Hogan will make sure of it." He started to say that if Schultz and his son knew Jesus as their Savior, he would see Schultz again, anyway, but declined. He didn't want to broach the possibility of death to the guard now that he was finally happy. 

Schultz smiled and stood up. "Thank you, Sergeant Kinchloe, I feel much better now." The guard began to leave when Kinch pointed to his right. 

"Uh, hey Schultz, your rifle?" Both laughed as the guard retrieved it from beside the door. 

The Heroes were in their positions as Oskar began speaking. Standing in front of a large podium as the gathered youth shouted "Heil!", Hogan maintained a stoic demeanor as the lad introduced him with a flurry of wild gesticulations which could have been mistaken for a seizure. Hogan stepped to the podium and spoke in the same, wild manner. "My countrymen," he exploded, "hear me, and hear me well, or you will not hear me! Do not loaf, it is not too late, it is never too late for the Reich, no matter how early, the Reich can still be illustrious in the realm of obscurity! Stand up," came the wild gesture as many in the crowd obeyed on command, "and take a load off your feet. For we have great strength in our might, we have great power in our strength, and great might in our power!" Oskar and Kurt snickered standing next to the colonel, then reminded themselves they were supposed to act like they strongly believed the man. The stood more resolutely. 

Hogan continued by pretending to lambast the Allies with huge words in his next few lines; though they sounded vicious they were actually compliments. The lads with him scribbled down ideas, something which impressed the colonel. The youth in front of us could think they're taking down the names of those who don't cheer loud enough. "The Allies are a bunch of amiable homo sapiens who practice monogamy! To allow yourselves to believe them is erudite and sapient; in the alternative you can engage in idolatry right here!" As the crowd cheered, the bemused POW wondered how they could hear him over their raucous noise. The crowd quieted as Hogan quickly scanned the notes received by him and nodded to the youngsters. He could tell the hush meant some were incredibly worried that they didn't cheer loudly enough. 

Hogan chose to use the ideas. "Furthermore, let me state equivocally that we must succeed, or we run the risk of failure. We must root out all debauchery from our midst, and say to ourselves, noone shall escape my wrath, not even me!' And against whom must we make our voices heard? Against all those agents who have infiltrated the Wehrmacht, who are marching right now toward the Western front. They plan to meet up with the Allies and betray the Fatherland. Do not let this happen. Stop that unit from advancing any further." Good work, guys, you learn well, Hogan thought, beginning his conclusion. 

"My friends, the ideology you are being taught only functions among groups which are neither stagnant nor in a state of flux, so let yourselves be warned, the very fabric of your nation depends on the utter defeat of the vilest creatures ever to inhabit this world," exclaimed Hogan. "Never forget that you are the future, and that you will lead this nation in decades to come. Prepare now for the future by learning who these vile creatures are, so you can ensure their kind never rules your nation again!" As Hogan listened to the intense roar from the crowd, he glanced at his watch. Good, he thought, we'll be in plenty of time to meet and get away, provided the others don't get delayed. As the Hitler Youth demanded to be able to follow Hogan, he assented. This would make it easier, with a mob on our side. "Are you ready to defeat the traitors in Wehrmact uniforms," he cried out, receiving an affirmative response. 

Carter and Newkirk reached the appointed meeting spot in the woods, along the road the Wehrmact were to travel. Hundreds of young people, greatly aroused by Hogan's address, followed them, as Hogan suspected might happen. He only hoped the Wehrmact weren't nutty enough to fire on their own people; he knew the Hitler Youth might get riled enough to do so, but Oskar and Kurt were ensuring none of them had weapons. This would be one disorganized mess without them, he pondered. It could still be a state of bedlam, but it won't be as bad as it could be without those two assisting. 

With Allied bombing limiting the passable roads to just three, the group of youths quickly began chopping down trees with axes supplied by the Heroes. Carter, having joined them, exclaimed that "I didn't think I'd actually be at war again when I signed up here." 

"You still won't be," Hogan insisted, "the paratroopers are supposed to handle any fighting that occurs, we just sit back and help them get out." At that moment, several explosions occurred, including one which was clearly the canal being devastated. 

"Too bad they can't forecast weather," Carter quipped, "or I'd have called earlier today and told them to issue a flood watch for low-lying areas." 

LeBeau, having come from over a ridge along with a couple paratroopers, added as he ran to join them in their alcove "with a 30% chance of bullet showers." He perspired heavily, something the grand spies almost never did, as he considered the blood he might see if things didn't go well. He fainted at the mere sight of it. 

Recalling this, Hogan told the Frenchman, "good work, get back in the truck and get ready to pack up, we'll let you drive when we get the rest in there." The colonel pondered their scheme, and wondered if he could have done this without endangering his men. No, he decided, this is a pretty serious time. It's not something I like, but we might have to do it a few more times later in the year, or whenever the war gets close to our camp. 

At least with that, he pondered as the paratroopers seized a buried weapons cache stored by the Underground, we would be able to keep the youths out of the fighting, because one of our men, LeBeau, would have to stay away so he didn't faint, though at other times he could use...no, don't be silly, he told himself, you wanted to keep them out of missions totally. This was an extreme example, something which necessitated their presence. Still, as the faux SS corporals organized the youth in blocking the roads, he sensed that these adolescents, while they didn't know how to fight, knew how to operate. Perhaps, Hogan thought, I have some fine young members of our team. 

He received a report via his hand-held radio that the Underground had knocked out a good number of tanks, trucks, and troops, and that much of the rear of the marchers were being forced to take a very long detour, one which could delay them by over a day. Hogan sighed, frustrated that they couldn't block them all, but he'd likely been aiming too high when thinking of disabling the whole unit. Then again, they'd delayed the entire German war machine during D-Day, so why shouldn't he aim high? 

Most of the youngsters were now tired and chose to rest, so Hogan instructed Oskar to provide directions so they could get home. A number of carloads of kids left, and the paratroopers joined the remaining Hitler Youth - who had acquired guns thanks to Kurt - on the front lines. As the shocked Wehrmact recognized they were surrounded, many of the remaining several dozen surrendered. Resistance leaders were assigned to haul them off to Gestapo headquarters for "questioning as traitors prepared to surrender their whole division to the Allies." 

However, a dozen Wehrmact officers fled to a small area where they could try and capture this band of obvious Underground workers. As Carter began to direct the paratroopers, Oskar, and Kurt to the spot where their truck was parked, the Wehrmact opened fire. Hogan, with Newkirk rounding up the last of the Wehrmact firearms, cursed the Nazis as he grabbed a revolver and looked for cover. 

Kurt quickly grabbed a machine gun and returned fire as Carter grabbed Oskar's arm and dove behind a rock. He saw in the boy's eyes the same frightened teenager he'd been when he first considered war, and the same petrified raw recruit who first pondered death. That fear had led him not only to join the Air Force, where hopefully he would not have to look in the eyes of the enemy, but also to become an expert in explosives, for he knew one had to be a long way away when something went "boom," and that he therefore wouldn't have to fight up close. He desperately wished to save Oskar from that shock. As Hogan noticed this, he himself was torn. Did he really want Oskar to witness the bloodshed he could see? After all, this young prot‚g‚ possessed great skill. 

Suddenly, Oskar grabbed a handful of rocks and fled the puny, impromptu fort. "What are you doing," exclaimed Carter as one of the Wehrmacht holed up fired a shot that just whizzed past one of the paratroopers. Oskar flung a rock at the German, ruining his concentration and allowing the paratrooper to get away. The youth then dove for a hand-held radio and scampered back to the rock with Carter as he spoke into it. The paratrooper inquired as to what was going on, and Oskar, knowing this was an Allied soldier, gave the name "Private Arnold Brown, U.S. Army" and slipped away once more. As Hogan, Newkirk, Carter, and Kurt assisted the paratroopers, the lad continued his game of cat and mouse, spying numerous different sites from which to draw their fire, then rushing from one to another as the paratroopers all reached safety. 

Hogan fretted for several minutes the fact that he hadn't been closer to the radio when he had to dive. Carter had been carrying it. He'd wanted to inform LeBeau of the situation and call for him to take the paratroopers and the boys to safety once they arrived. He wondered what Oskar did with it. He soon discovered that this boy's plan, while unique, would work somewhat well, as several dozen Hitler Youth began march up behind the Wehrmacht just as the others were close to departing. This might be the diversion we need, the head POW thought for a second. 

That soon changed, as the Wehrmact turned to fire on the advancing youths, including Kurt, who'd mustered the courage to rush the bunker. Kurt was killed instantly as Oskar watched stunned. The lad had never expected that anyone would die. Why else would he have done all that running around, except to draw German fire and get the paratroopers to safety? The next thing shocked him even more - several members of the Hitler Youth were wounded as the last of the remaining Wehrmacht were annihilated. Oskar quickly called for several ambulances, not thinking that the Heroes first had to escape. He ran over to the wounded teens, emotionally drained. This is what Father tried to warn me about, he pondered as the Heroes and paratroopers converged. Oskar began to try and help the wounded, but he was too overcome with grief. He simply sank to his knees and cried. 

Hogan instructed Carter to take the paratroopers back to the truck and inform LeBeau they were on their way. Several of the soldiers carried Kurt's lifeless body with them, somberly considering how odd this scenario had become. Oskar wept bitterly as the POWs ushered him away quickly. He couldn't believe the carnage and destruction; not to mention that his friend had died. Indeed, he still couldn't believe anyone had perished. Now I see why dad warned me to stay out of war altogether, he considered. After a moment, when each of the wounded were certain to have colleagues caring for them, Hogan and Newkirk whisked him toward the truck. The adolescent whined meekly to Hogan "Do I...do I have to do any more of this?" 

Hogan grinned sadly. He hadn't want the lad to learn about war like this. The sight troubled him, for he could tell if he said "no," he would be losing one of the better young recruits he could find. And, though the end might be closer now, such a lad would still be as valuable now as he would have been two years ago. Still, it would take a long while for the lad to recover. Carter was shaken, but at least he was a soldier, he'd experienced or contemplated some of this, he'd been on missions where people had been hurt, and therefore he was accustomed to it. Oskar, on the other hand, might not be usable for a few months, anyway. Thereafter, his usefulness would be limited. 

Even without that, however, there was the problem of Schultz. The colonel had made a promise, and he tried very hard to be a man of his word to those he cared for; and, like it or not, Schultz was one German he cared about deeply. Besides, what did he need to be taking on recruits like this for; dozens, if not hundreds, of new men would soon be arriving in camp. And, despite the boy's apparent ability, he was still only fifteen. He clearly had the right to choose not to risk his life now, even if he had seemingly surrendered that right earlier. Hence, the head POW smiled and said softly "Not if you don't want to." 

Sobbing, the lad maintained "I do not want anything to do with war, or the Underground, or fighting, ever again." 

Hogan put an arm around him as Newkirk ensured that everything was secure. He wished he could think of something more to console the lad with, but could think of nothing. His father would be able to handle this much better, he concluded as he turned to the Englishman and advised "Let's take him home." 

Schultz brooded around the compound in the early morning hours, turning to his left and pointing his gun at the sound of footsteps. Reciting the query like a child reciting multiplication tables, he said "Halt! Who goes there?" The sight of Kinch made the guard a little uneasy, but at least the man smiled as he invited the guard into the barracks. 

Schultz entered to see the Heroes, back in their normal outfits, sitting around a table. Oskar glanced up hesitantly, until he saw Schultz's arms wide open. For some reason, he'd worried others would see him as a failure for quitting. As he and his father embraced, he spoke. "Father, I am sorry; I was wrong, I do not want to fight. I do not want to be in the Underground." 

Schultz tearfully voiced his joy over the penitent boy. "Welcome home, son," he exclaimed as the others grinned happily. Wonder if there's any way to get fatted calf on the black market, Kinch almost joked. 

Afterward 

At the radio, Sergeant Baker entertained a query from London. Unsure of how to respond, he merely told London "we'll check on it, Papa Bear out," and rose from the tunnel. "Hey, Colonel," he inquired of the man in the bomber jacket as his commanding officer chatted amicably with Schultz outside the barracks, "whatever happened to Private Brown?" Schultz failed to notice that this had been his son's false name; there were a number of Browns in the camp. 

Hogan entered and gestured toward Carter to indicate who had impersonated the Gestapo. Hogan explained that "Gestapo said he and Smith were planted to get information, now they left so Klink's taken them off the roles. Why?" 

Looking stunned, Baker explained. "Well, London says the paratroopers spoke so highly of his bravery, word got back to headquarters, and now the U.S. Army wants to give him a medal." 

Hogan got excited, and called the guard into their hut. He gave Schultz a gentle slap on the back. "Hey, congratulations, Schultz, the U.S. Army says your son earned a medal!" 

Grinning joyfully and turning around, Schultz exclaimed "Oh, boy, wait until I tell my wife." He opened the door in mid-stride, the grin morphing into an extremely quizzical look. "Wait a minute," he thought aloud, pivoting slowly toward Hogan. "You said the U.S. Army." Hogan gave an "mm-hmm." "Why would your army...want to give my son...a medal?" 

"He performed so bravely in rescuing a bunch of paratroopers on a mission," Hogan explained. 

Exasperated, Schultz exclaimed "Colonel Hogan, it was hard enough explaining why he was having such nightmares all of a sudden, I do not want my wife to know he was endangering his life running around disguised as an Allied prisoner in Germany." 

"He wasn't," Hogan explained, "he was dressed as a German corporal and leader of a group of Hitler Youth." 

"You said he was a guard here at Stalag 13," came the testy comeback. 

"He is," Hogan remarked, "on indefinite leave, a combination sickness and family emergency." 

Carter couldn't help but add "now, he wasn't Private Brown even when he was Private Brown." 

"What are you talking about," came the guard. 

"Well, Carter impersonated a Gestapo..." 

Schultz held up his hands. "Mmmm, I know nothing, I hear noth-ing. Please, just tell me who Oskar was." 

Hogan explained as Schultz grew increasingly astonished. "Well, first he was your son, of course, then he was Oskar Schultz of the Wehrmacht on the Western Front, then we made him Oskar Schultz - maybe the same one, maybe not, it's a common name - of Stalag 13. In the meantime, he became Arnold Brown of the U.S. Army Air Corps, which is the name the paratroopers got from him, but who the Germans think was a Gestapo infiltrator named Hans Frieburger. Finally, he was Corporal Eric Hanover of the SS and the Hitler Youth Movement." 

Schultz shook his head wearily as he turned away. "He has been one busy young man." It sometimes felt like there were five of him at home, but this is ridiculous, Schultz pondered. 

"Imagine if he'd had to fill out all the forms like we do," Carter noted, to which the others laughed. 

"Blimey, he'd be the first draftee to ever die in wartime of old age," joked Newkirk. 

To ease Schultz's mind and to let Baker know what to tell London, Hogan offered this. "Tell London this situation, it was a German youth who fought as an American to free his land; that's good to tell the press, then they can report it but say he can't be identified, and it might inspire such action if we try to let other German youth know this. They can't reveal his name until the war is over, and the occupying forces can present him with the medal, hopefully late next year." Baker acknowledged this and began to descend into the tunnel to inform London. Hogan stopped him and added "and, a full military funeral for a Kurt Oppenheimer, same situation, the body's going out with the other nine. He might have a brother who can receive the flag and stuff after the war." Baker nodded and left as Hogan considered the sadness which had affected him since the teen's death. He was closer to draftable age, meaning he thought of the lad more as a soldier than just a kid. However, it still hurt him more than just losing a man under his command would have. Hopefully, this would relieve some of that. He knew with his pull, the Allies would okay the funeral and medal. Schultz decided inquiry would be ridiculous in this endeavor, telling him more than he wished to know. 

The guard began to leave slowly, still considering the various roles his son had occupied. He spun around once more in the doorway, asking "Wait a minute. If Arnold Brown was really a Hans Frieberger..." 

That's his cover, Schultz," Kinch explained, "so they don't go looking for Arnold Brown when he disappears." 

The German's finger moved almost imperceptibly, as if drawing a small diagram in the air. "If my son was a Brown to the paratroopers, a Frieberger to the Germans, a Schultz twice..." He sighed and flapped his arms down to his sides. "I give up, who is getting the medal." 

"Oskar Schultz," Newkirk explained, announcing it like one would an Academy Award, "for his work portraying Arnold Brown." 

"But you said he was not Arnold Brown on the mission," complained the guard. This is way too hard for him; it would be hard for any of our families to fathom, Hogan pondered. 

"It'll get to the right man, Schultzie, Hogan will make sure they don't mess up," the Frenchman guaranteed. He knew Hogan would make sure of it. Hogan always credited his men with the good work they did; he wouldn't hog the glory. 

"But then, if my son is drafted..." 

"He can't be," Hogan explained, "he's at Stalag 13, on permanent leave; the worst he'll have to do is come here and sit around guarding us for a while, you can start a policy of keeping a guard in our barracks to keep us out of trouble. I don't think that will be needed, though" 

Moving his finger once more, Schultz spoke to the ceiling. "He is in two armies, including one several times, and yet he will not be fighting." Turning away, he finally left, muttering "this is one peculiar war" under his breath, but privately thankful for the strange way in which the Lord seemed to have worked. 

"Hey, Colonel," Carter suddenly thought, "what if Klink suddenly decides to start keeping track of his guards and realizes he's a man short?" 

Hogan grinned, already having decided the answer. "Stick him in the infirmary, tell Klink he's quarantined until further notice." 

"With what," Kinch inquired. 

"Arctic flu, very contagious. You see, before Oskar Schultz came to Stalag 13, the son of Sergeant Schultz served as a medic on the Eastern Front. Not only does it give us an easy out, but let's face it, it gives him and us one more branch of service, which lets us laugh with his dad even more about it. And in this crazy war, we all need to laugh a little." The Heroes heartily agreed. 


End file.
